


The Doctor (Ch14)

by CarmillaCarmine



Series: The Memoirs of Dr. John H. Watson [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Doctor's Office, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sherlock Misses John, Switching, breath play, they miss each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 18:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18287438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine
Summary: Sherlock misses John and decides to visit him in his office. Despite planning a wedding with Mary, John still can't keep his hands off his best friend.This fic is Part 14 of "deleted scenes" style ficThe Memoirs of Dr. John H. Watson. If you’re reading this as a stand-alone, note that everything that happened in the show is valid BUT John and Sherlock had been in a sexual relationship since after ASiB (ch4) and after Sherlock returned from the dead (ch11), they resumed it (ch13) with Mary's blessing (ch12).This chapter takes place between The Empty Hearse and The Sign of Three.Before I move on to the wedding and more angst that goes with it, I figured the boys can have some more fun together in one more chapter. Well okay, maybe two (three?). Because I like them in porny situations. Sue me. Written for prompt "Ecstasy"Enjoy the smut 🙂





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thinkanddoodle_batch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thinkanddoodle_batch/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to [Thinkanddoodle](https://thinkanddoodle-batch.tumblr.com/)  
> . Happy Birthday my friend! <3

Sherlock stood under the shower at 221B and let the hot water wash away the stench of the alley he had been in earlier this morning. Lestrade had called him at dawn about a murdered woman and he had rushed to the scene. The case seemed quite engaging at first but after solving it within hours, he felt empty again. The feeling faded slightly whenever he thought of John and what they had done last week but then it slammed back into him with double the force when he remembered that John was gone. 

Even looking at the small assortment of toiletries on the shelf in the shower made him think of John. The space now lacked the simple shampoo and shower gel he had used...maybe he still used it but Sherlock wouldn’t know that now. It was bizarre to the point that it made him feel silly, the way that he became so disgustingly sentimental once he had come back to Baker Street. Everything reminded him of the previous time he had lived there and wherever he looked, he half-expected John to be there. There was no quiet hum of the telly in the evenings, no sounds of his friend making dinner in the kitchen, and no muttered curses when the fridge was being opened. 

Their encounter last week made it worse. Whenever he found himself sitting on the sofa, he imagined John coming over to him, stripping him, sliding hands on his body... Sherlock released a groan when his soaped-up hand brushed his growing erection. He slid his hands up over his chest, grazing his nipples before he slid them back down along his abdomen and to his cock. 

“Ahhh John...” he moaned bracing one hand on the wall in front of him as the other lathered his sac before returning to his erection. He imagined John’s lips around him and squeezed his cock harder at the image. John’s tongue teasing his cock and his hot mouth sliding up and down would feel a lot better than his own hand did. It had to be enough for him now, Sherlock thought, and he groaned again when his mind supplied him with the image of John’s naked form in front of him, sprawled on the bed, smiling up at him as he spread his legs in invitation.  

Sherlock came hard, painting the wall in front of him, whispering the simple name of an extraordinary man.  

. 

Sherlock ordered Thai but only after it was delivered did he realise that he had ordered John’s favourite dish along with his own. He lost his appetite when he opened the paper bag and saw two boxes, but eventually settled to eat as he knew his body needed the nourishment.  

Sitting by the kitchen table, he recalled clearly how he had to put John in a situation where he had little choice but to finally forgive him. He had felt bad for a moment when John’s emotions were all over the place during their struggle with the train bomb. His own emotions had been much the same but it was worth it when John finally spoke. Sherlock remembered the words clearly as they came to him whenever he doubted the strength of their friendship since his return. 

 

“Look, I find it difficult, I find it difficult, this sort of stuff.” John had rasped in a voice breaking from the onslaught of emotions. 

“I know,” had been the only thing Sherlock had been able to say as his stomach had performed somersaults waiting for John to continue. John had straightened his posture, a true soldier prepared for battle. 

“You were the best and the wisest man that I have ever known.” He had sniffled. “Yes, of course I forgive you.” 

It had been as if a rock that lay on Sherlock’s chest since his return to London had finally been lifted. John had forgiven him.  

 

He had little hope that John would return to 221B, but it had been there, especially after that night. But then with their friends gathered in the flat, after he had poured the champagne for himself, he couldn’t help the disappointment that had sliced him to pieces at Mary’s mention of a May wedding.  

“You will be there, Sherlock?” Mary had asked him even though she had known the answer. 

“Weddings, not really my thing.” he had responded with a wink at Mary. Of course he would be there, he had promised John. He had promised Mary that, for John’s own good, he would not interrupt it or sabotage John and Mary’s relationship beyond what he and John had already been doing. She had been convincing in telling him that John needed her, that he had always wanted a semblance of normal life and the marriage would give that to him. In return, she promised she would not keep John from Sherlock when it came to cases and any other ‘activities’ she had been aware they engaged in. 

Sherlock noticed that he had finished his food during his musings and was now sitting with an empty box gazing at the still full box of Thai that should have been John’s. 

He fished his phone out of his pocket, glanced at the box and texted John.   

<TXT> Come at once. SH 

The answer came within three minutes.  

<TXT> I’m at work, finishing soon. What’s up?  

Sherlock typed in several options and kept deleting them. 

<TXT> Bored. SH 

There was no response for several minutes and that was enough for him to reach for his coat. 

 

- 

The last patient left and John knew he had to finish the paperwork before he could leave. The intercom buzzed and he held a button that connected him to the reception desk. Mary’s voice came through. 

“John, I finished. Everyone else is gone.” 

“I’ll have to stay a little longer, Mary.” 

“Sherlock is here.” She delivered the message in a neutral tone but inside John’s body there was a war between panic and excitement. Panic over what Mary would think about Sherlock visiting him and excitement over just seeing his friend again. He had told Mary about the encounter he had with his best friend at 221B, not in detail but she knew they didn’t just sit and talk to resolve their issues. She seemed to be fine with it but the good doctor in John still felt as if he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to. 

John breathed deeply for several moments until the door to his office opened. Mary stepped in with a knowing look on her face. She was wearing her winter coat and her bag hung on her shoulder. 

“I’m heading out. I’m meeting Molly at a pub so don’t wait up.” Which was her way of saying, I won’t wait for you, so do what you will.  

John hesitated before he stood up from his chair and took a step towards her. She met him halfway and placed a kiss on his cheek before she said “hot” into his ear. John frowned and looked at Mary’s face, now adorned with a smile. “I love seeing you this excited.” She put a gentle hand on the cheek she had just kissed. “I’ll see you at home, John.” 

For a split second, John was confused about why would she wait for him at 221B but he quickly reminded himself that it was not his home anymore. He nodded to her in lieu of a reply, afraid he wouldn't like the sound of his voice.  

Sherlock appeared in the doorway and Mary looked up at him, squeezed his forearm and must have whispered something because Sherlock gave her a nod and she left, closing the door silently behind her. 

Sherlock stood motionless and John’s fist clenched and unclenched in an effort not to touch him. He took one step forward and stopped, taking in the detective’s face, the open collar of his black shirt, and a paper bag in his hand. 

With his free hand, Sherlock reached for John’s fist. The doctor opened his hand, grazed Sherlock’s and moved it away. Immediately, he regretted the impulse that made him feel that touching hands with his friend in public was wrong. They were not in public and he wanted Sherlock’s hand to touch his own. What was the worst, however was the look on Sherlock’s face; as if the small rejection physically hurt him. 

They had done a lot more than hold hands before and even after Sherlock’s return, but somehow that gesture seemed to mean more, seemed to make it official in some way. John was not ready for that. Even if Mary was on board with what they had done, they couldn't possibly keep it up for long. Sherlock would eventually get bored and being abandoned by the detective again was more than John could handle. It would be better to stop now, before it was too late. 

“Sherlock...you can’t just...” 

“I can. And I will until you tell me to stop.” was Sherlock’s reply right before he took one long step and captured John’s mouth. It was needy and fast and John could feel his own hunger rise as he opened his mouth to let his friend inside. Sherlock was intoxicating, he played on John’s senses, setting his mind and his body on fire with a touch of his lips. He was irresistible, a wrecking ball, making the wall of John’s inhibitions crumble away into dust. They would stop eventually but not just yet. John could allow himself one more jump into the pool of abandon.  

The sound of the bag Sherlock held hitting the floor was not enough for them to cease their frantic movements. In fact, there was not much that could make John stop now. Sherlock’s hands were around his waist, crashing them together, and John let his hands slide under Sherlock’s open coat and up the detective’s back. The softness of the shirt was a nuisance as John would prefer to touch the scars covering the muscled back. He broke the kiss and looked at his friend’s red, kiss-swollen lips. 

“You’re wrong about that.” John said between panting breaths. 

“Then correct me, doctor.” The fire in Sherlock’s eyes made the last word resonate deep inside John. The sentence was uttered in a way that sounded as if he had said ‘Then fuck me hard, Doctor,’ and John received the message loud and clear.  

“I can never tell you to stop.” The silence that fell was filled only with their deep breathing and the tension in the room was so thick he had a feeling he was looking at Sherlock through a wall of glass. 

“Since we’re here, you might as well examine me.” Sherlock made the tension evaporate as he indicated the doctor’s office with a wave of his hand and a smile. 

“Cheeky bastard.”  

John tore Sherlock’s coat off, letting it fall to the floor. His jacket and shirt followed the same path before John manhandled Sherlock to the examination table by the wall. He bent Sherlock over it, causing his arse to stick out invitingly in John’s direction. The detective’s trousers were tight over the muscled cheeks John was desperate to fondle.   

Sherlock folded his hands under his chin and looked at John over his shoulder. A lascivious smile was dancing on his lips and John had the urgent need to turn it into an expression of ecstasy. He reached over to open Sherlock’s trousers and pulled them down to his calves, knowing that the position bound the detective’s legs much as a rope would. John licked his lips before he placed a kiss on the small of Sherlock’s back. He felt privileged to be allowed to touch Sherlock that way, to expose him.  

His palms caressed the round arse of the gorgeous man before him and John muttered a curse, feeling his own erection straining in his trousers. In order to relieve some of the tension, he gripped Sherlock’s hips and slid his clothed cock between Sherlock’s buttocks. A groan left him at the sensation and he dug his fingers harder into his friend’s flesh. 

“Tease.” Sherlock commented, pushing his arse into John’s groin and grabbing John’s thighs with his hands. 

“Fuck...Sherlock...I don’t want to come just yet. And not in my pants.” He chuckled, trying to wiggle out of the detective’s grip.  

Sherlock didn’t let go and John knew exactly why. He persisted unnecessarily to prove that he had put his trust in John. It was something John had wanted from him when they had fucked before Sherlock’s disappearance. Now that he had it, he discovered that he liked being ordered around by Sherlock a lot more. The empowerment he felt when he made Sherlock squirm riding his cock brought him even more satisfaction when it was a low growl telling him what to do; when he could forget everything and just ride the wave of submission during which he was just as much in control as he was now. Nevertheless, he gladly accepted Sherlock’s gift now and planned to make good use of it.  

John went to a metal dresser on the other side of the room and retrieved several items from the top drawer. He approached Sherlock, who didn’t change his position, and ground his aching cock on him the same way again. Sherlock’s hands reached out for him, but this time John took both of his wrists, and wrapped an elastic bandage around them.  

“Is it-” John started but was interrupted. 

“I know our safeword, John.” Sherlock’s voice dripped with unmistakable arousal as he jerked his hands, testing the makeshift cuff and finding that it was holding his wrists firmly. “I have a request though.” 

“Yes?” 

“Put the gloves on. Examine me.” 

“But with you...” John felt his cheeks flush. 

“Indulge me.” 

“All right.” John chased away the knowledge that he would have to examine patients in this room later and focused on the view before him. Sherlock’s bare chest was flush on the examining table, his wrists were bound and his trousers and boxers were keeping his legs from changing position. All of this highlighted Sherlock’s gorgeous arse on display. He was Doctor Watson now and his patient needed his immediate attention. 

John reached for the plastic box attached to the wall, pulled out two nitrile gloves and snapped them loudly one by one.  

Sherlock lifted his torso off the white sheet that covered the table, twisting to look at John but was pinned back down with John’s hand between his shoulder blades. With a slow smile, John took the stethoscope that he had taken from the drawer along with the bandage before, and wrapped it around Sherlock’s throat. The detective lifted his head to give him access to his neck and graced him with a sultry expression of hooded eyes and a wicked smile. John knew exactly how being overpowered by Sherlock felt like and he missed it. Now, he tried to make the experience as good for Sherlock as his partner had made it for him so many times before.  

John held both ends of the stethoscope in his right hand, forcing Sherlock to arch a little while his left hand moved to rub circles over Sherlock’s hole. Sherlock made a pliant noise and John’s body responded at the feeling of power he wielded with the voluntary submission from his detective. The tube of medical lubricant that John took out from the metal cabinet now lay next to Sherlock on the examination table and John loosened the cap with one hand and squirted some on his hand. He returned to massaging his friend’s hole slowly, teasing one finger in. 

“John...” The word came as a half-moan of pleasure and half-plea for more. John obliged, gleefully sliding another digit inside. He groaned himself at the sight of his fingers moving inside his lover and felt his cock leak precome from excitement. With a gentle move, John located the prostate and started massaging the gland. Sherlock moaned at first and, arching, slacked the tubing of the stethoscope around his neck. John put more pressure with his fingers, perfectly aware of the effects of his teasing on a man’s body. The detective surged forward at that until his head hit the wall. 

“Oh God, are you all right?” John asked and bit his lip to stifle a laugh, removing his fingers gently and placing his palm on his friend’s hip.  

“Yes... Fuck, John, if you do this to all your patients, I swear I’ll visit you more often.” Sherlock replied with clear amusement in his voice.  

“I don’t do this to my patients, you dickhead!” John protested, appalled but snorted a laugh himself. He let go of the stethoscope still binding the detective. Sherlock took a lungful of air but groaned in protest looking at John over his shoulder. The flushed and smiling face of the only consulting detective made John’s cock twitch and he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He opened his jeans with astounding speed and slid them down along with his boxer briefs, then proceeded to toe off his shoes and step out of the bundle of clothes at his ankles.  

The doctor looked at his gloves and to maintain the air of mock-sterile procedure, he reached into another drawer to retrieve a condom. After a few quick movements he groaned pulling the condom on and slicking himself with more of the lube.   

Sherlock was watching John’s movements over his shoulder and after a nod let his head fall. John couldn’t stop the curses that left his mouth like a prayer when the tip of his cock was swallowed by the tight heat of Sherlock Holmes. He slid inside a bit and stopped to take a deep breath. 

“Sherlock... you’re... you’re....oh fuck...” he pulled back and then thrust in further. They were both well slicked but it was still a process until Sherlock’s body could acclimatise to John’s considerable girth. When finally his hips touched Sherlock’s buttocks they groaned in unison. The detective moved his hips enticingly, urging John to proceed. He slid halfway out and slammed in so hard the echo of their slapping bodies filled the room. Sherlock pushed towards him to impale himself harder and John held onto the bandage on Sherlock’s wrists until they found a rhythm. John leaned forward so he could reach for Sherlock’s cock to stroke it. He spread the precome with his thumb before taking hold of the shaft with his still lubricated hand. Sherlock’s cock was long, making it feel lean like the man himself and John had to close his eyes to imagine it as he teased it with hand. John placed a wet kiss on Sherlock’s back as he was panting, feeling his orgasm building. 

Amongst their low groans of pleasure, John’s snort of laughter made Sherlock look over his shoulder at him.  


	2. Chapter 2

“John?” Sherlock frowned in confusion.  

“Nothing. You’ll think I’m crazy.” 

“Tell me.” Sherlock asked, breathing heavily. John slid his palms up along his lover’s back then down to take possession of his hips. Each time together felt like the last they might get and he couldn’t help wanting to make the most of it and thinking of how their sex used to be like. 

“I...ummm” John swallowed. “I want to keep going. I want to finish but I also want...” 

“What do you want, John?” Sherlock asked impatiently and John didn’t blame him considering their situation. 

“You can’t come, Sherlock.” “John...fuuuuuuck..”  

John wasn’t one to talk about deep-seated needs and feelings, but when in throes of passion the barriers and restraints crumbled and both of them were more likely to say openly what they should be able to say.   

 “Because I’ve missed your cock in me, Sherlock.” John said pushing in to brush his patient’s prostate. He looked into Sherlock’s eyes and if he didn’t know better, he would swear that the hottest fire of Mordor kindled in them. Sherlock growled as he started tugging his hands to get the bandage off. “Easy.” John released his lover’s wrists as fast as he could.  

The doctor stepped back, detaching himself from his lover at the look he saw on his face. He straightened his back, watching a dishevelled Sherlock gazing at him with a look that promised sweet revenge for pulling them back from the brink of orgasm. John had a feeling that he would remember this evening for a long time. 

Swiftly, Sherlock rid himself of the bottom half of his clothes. He pulled John over to kiss him deeply, their arousal making them grapple for whatever part of the other’s body they could reach. 

John knew it was his time to occupy the table when he was turned around and felt it hit the backs of his thighs. Sherlock moved his kisses to John’s jaw, his neck where he bit slightly making John moan before he moved to his collarbone. The detective was crazed with lust and John marvelled at the knowledge that it was him that brought Sherlock to this state. 

Sherlock stopped to remove John’s suit jacket and throw it on the chair next to the desk. In his impatience, the doctor opened the first three buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Observing that, Sherlock smirked and moved to the opposite wall to pluck a white doctor’s coat from the peg. He gave it an approving glance and pointed at the tag on the coat’s pocket.  

“I believe this is yours, doctor.” 

“I believe it is.” John replied while removing the rest of his clothing. Completely nude, he reached for the coat and shrugged into it. Seeing Sherlock’s amused stare, he opened his arms and did a 360 degree turn. The chuckle that came from his best friend warmed John inside so much that he wanted to act silly more often just to hear it.  

He had barely finished his spin when Sherlock claimed his mouth again, his hands holding John by the lapels of the white coat. John followed the movements his friend directed and found himself sitting where Sherlock had been draped just moments before. He spread his legs to accommodate the detective’s body as he pressed himself close. John’s opened coat allowed their bare chests to meet. John and Sherlock’s erections were trapped between their bodies. With the movements of his lithe body, the detective created a friction that made them both moan into the kiss.   

“You’ve missed this,” Sherlock breathed as they parted. His words were a statement but his eyes were questioning. 

“Yes.” he answered, purposefully not elaborating as he couldn’t trust what would come out of his mouth. He didn’t dare admit how vast the emptiness inside him had been when Sherlock had been gone, how he had missed their morning coffee together, the thrill of the chase and even the domestic bickering. Then there was the sex...What they were doing now was right, and John could feel it deep inside himself.   

Sherlock pulled John’s condom off and threw it over his shoulder. John made a mental note to find it later before anyone else could. The detective wrapped his long fingers around both of their cocks and slid his hand slowly down, tugging their foreskins down simultaneously. Then he moved his hand up, squeezed and stilled, breathing heavily. Sherlock’s eyes were closed and he let his head fall forwards as he groaned, a vibrating sound that resonated in the air. 

“John...” The name came out reflecting the pain of denied orgasm and when Sherlock's eyes flew open to meet John’s, it was clear that the fun was about to start. 

John’s back hit the wall behind him with a thump when Sherlock pulled his hips to his own. 

John chuckled at their clumsiness and slid his arse to the edge of the table, resting his upper back on the wall. Sherlock shook his head and smiled wickedly before their gazes met and held when the detective took John’s right leg by the calf and lifted it. 

The first kiss was on his ankle and John finally understood what the appeal of seeing the ankles of fully dressed women in Victorian times must have been. It was a portal, a beginning of a path that lead to the pleasurable centre. Sherlock licked around his ankle, then slowly along John’s calf.  

“Who’s a tease now?” John accused playfully reaching for his erection but Sherlock batted his hand away giving him a stern look. Precome dripped on John’s abdomen as his cock silently begged for attention. Sherlock paid that no mind as he continued his languid descent of John’s leg, his lips kissing a trail on the inside of John’s thigh. John arched as much as he could in his position, pleading for attention where it was due. 

A string of curses left John’s lips when Sherlock sucked one of his balls into his mouth. Catching John’s gaze, the detective lowered himself to his knees. He was dangerously gorgeous – a mix of unearthly beauty with lascivious expression on his face; Sherlock was a sight to behold. 

John let his legs fall onto Sherlock’s shoulders as the detective licked the underside of John’s cock. He travelled lower still, his tongue teasing John’s balls again, then going under, leaving wetness in his wake.  

The doctor groaned when he felt the smart tongue circle around his hole before delving in. He flexed his buttocks to push onto Sherlock’s face as his tongue explored in earnest.  

With a flat-tongued swipe from John’s balls, Sherlock’s mouth travelled to the tip of John’s erection. The doctor moaned as the heat of Sherlock’s mouth engulfed the glans. But for the detective’s firm grip on John’s thighs, he would have thrust up wanting to feel those beautiful lips slide down on his cock. His wish was granted quickly enough when Sherlock opened his throat to take him in fully. John could feel his lover’s pharyngeal muscles work around his glans and he had found himself gripping the sheet underneath him and breathing deeply to savour the pleasure without coming.  

John couldn’t wait; he wouldn’t. The lubricant was still on the examining table and John handed it to Sherlock who stopped his ministrations to give John a wet smile, getting the unsubtle hint.  

The detective made use of the slick substance and soon enough John felt his ring of muscle accepting Sherlock’s finger. It swirled in his hole, spreading the lube, teasing John for what was to come before another digit joined the fun. John gasped on an inhale and moaned on an exhale when Sherlock started massaging his prostate. He could come untouched like this, he was sure; with Sherlock’s skilled fingers in him, he could.... 

“John?” 

“Mmmm?” 

“What do you want?” 

“You...Sherlock...” he moaned, crazed with need. 

Sherlock pushed his fingers harder into John, coaxing a hiss of pleasure. 

“Yes....” Sherlock growled the word and John felt a shiver ran down his spine at the sound. 

“I want your cock, Sherlock. Your cock inside me. And don’t be gentle.” 

Sherlock’s fingers left John’s body and the doctor looked down at his lover’s hands moving quickly to apply the lube onto his own cock before he positioned it at the doctor’s entrance.  

John wanted to wiggle closer but there was no more space on the table. Fortunately, Sherlock deduced his desire and slid almost halfway in the first thrust. They both released low groans of pleasure and John felt the slight beginning of a burn before Sherlock pulled almost all the way out and slid back again slowly. 

John made a lewd noise at the feeling he had missed for so long and he relaxed his muscles, letting his lover in. One more slide and John was full to the hilt with Sherlock’s long cock.   

They stayed like that for a second, letting their bodies accustom themselves to the sensations before Sherlock started to move his hips in shallow thrusts. One of his hands gripped the inside of John’s thigh in a bruising grip and the other flicked John’s nipple. 

John hissed at the pleasure and let his head fall back, exposing his neck. He could clearly remember the first time they had sex and as if reading his mind, Sherlock brought his hand up from John’s thigh, wrapped his long fingers around John’s throat and squeezed. A shot of excitement ran through John and he knew he was ready. 

“Ahhhh Sherlock...” he rasped, his hands holding on to the side of the table behind his back. He couldn’t touch his cock in that position or he would lose his balance but he wouldn’t need to. The merciless thrusts that Sherlock delivered and the possessive, slightly choking hand on his throat made sure that John felt his body spasm very quickly as he spilled his seed on himself, untouched. His eyes locked on his lover’s who, seeing his end, delivered one last thrust and stilled. John could feel Sherlock’s cock twitch inside him as he came, and basked in the groans of his name as the detective’s come shot into him. 

Sherlock leaned over so their foreheads touched. They were still panting, their faces red from the exercise and fire that took over their bodies. They cooled down for a moment longer, and Sherlock pulled out with a sigh. The loss was palpable for the doctor but thankfully, Sherlock’s arms went around John, drawing him into seated position and plastering their sweaty bodies together. The detective rested his head on John’s shoulder and released a contented sigh, tightening his hold as if trying to bury himself into him. 

The doctor kissed the mop of curls in his field of vision, inhaling the shampoo, the sweat and the smell of sex. He could fall asleep with this mix of scents invading his senses... 

“I hope you don’t let your patients do _that_ to you...” Sherlock murmured into John’s flesh, breaking John from his thoughts. 

“Hilarious, Sherlock.” John said sarcastically before a fit of giggles took him over. They both laughed, still in each other's arms. Sherlock was the first to pull away when they finally calmed down. He framed John’s face with his palms and stroked thumbs over the cheeks. The doctor felt warmth spread inside him that had nothing to do with the mind-blowing sex they just had. The detective looked into his eyes, his expression serious, a complete contrast to the look of the tousled sex hair that fell on his forehead. John closed his eyes when the full, soft lips touched his own. Tenderness that was so foreign from Sherlock Holmes cascaded into John, filling him with emotion that made his eyes sting.   

All too quickly, Sherlock’s lips were gone, along with his hands and body as he stepped back. When John opened his eyes a few moments later, Sherlock was picking up his clothes and getting dressed. He seemed to be focused on his task, his face turned away from John’s, his eyes downcast as they followed his fingers pushing the small buttons though the holes in his shirt. 

- 

“This was... amazing...” John breathed. “But...” Sherlock felt his stomach drop when John continued even though he knew he should have expected it.  

“Don’t worry, John.” He cleared his throat from the lump in his throat and neatly disguised it with his naturally low voice and the verbal strain it endured when he chanted John’s name just moments before. “I know it changes nothing. I just needed the physical contact.” It was John’s turn to clear his throat. 

“Right,” He said and eased himself off the examination table immediately reaching for a box of tissues.  

“I can’t be bothered with the rest that comes with sex and you know it.” Sherlock lied as he tied his shoes. “It would be a waste of my time.” John elicited emotions in Sherlock that he had always thought himself incapable of. He mattered too much to Sherlock but the detective refused to jeopardise their friendship and the ‘amazing’ sex just because he would want John all to himself. 

“Mary told me you’re helping her with the wedding preparations.” John was done cleaning up and started dressing as he said it. Sherlock tried not to look but his mind supplied him with the facts that John would still have remnants of his come inside him when he would get home, that he would think of him again in the shower that evening and that he would later lay down next to the woman he would marry in a few short months. 

“I was bored.” Sherlock replied in neutral tone, shrugging into his coat. He was prepared to do everything to make sure the day John had called the most important in his life would be as perfect as he had imagined it should be. Sherlock schooled the pained expression on his face into a mask before he transformed it into a sly smile. He put his hand on the handle of the door and turned halfway to John who was almost finished getting dressed.  

“I’ll visit you in a couple of days, Doctor Watson.” He winked and left, closing the door behind himself, leaving John with mouth opened to protest but with no sound coming out.  

He ran home, his loafers making soft clicking sounds on the pavement. The wind that blew hard in his face made his eyes sting... 


End file.
